


Stronger Than The Sea

by squire



Series: Everything Of Me [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Assassination attempts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emperor Hux, Eventual HEA, Fear of Drowning, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Hux can't relax, Knight Ren, M/M, Naboo sceneries, Painplay, Public Displays of Affection, Sea bathing, Skinny Dipping, Spanking, Tiny bit of Hux's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7572838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squire/pseuds/squire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo's voice is quiet, muffled with the pillows and somehow smaller than it ever should be: "Are we... is everything all right?" </p><p>"Of course, Kylo. You did nothing wrong."</p><p>The problem is, Kylo thinks miserably, that he doesn't seem to do anything right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> To better understand this story, you should definitely read the previous fics in this series first. Painted Crimson is optional but starting with Weak Together the events follow one after another and this story won't make much sence without the context.

Kylo wakes at the crack of dawn, blinking sleepily against the moisture-heavy air and watching the play of light on the high ceiling, the reflections dancing in the rhythm of waves lapping against the walls of his room. The hour is still quiet, the house has yet to stir with the hum of daily routine, and Kylo walks out onto the balcony, the sheets from the bed trailing behind him like a silly ceremonial robe. There's still a hint of chilly bite in the air, lingering from the night, but the breeze is fresh and coming from the mainland, carrying the warming scent of woods and herbs and mixing them with the salty and cooling smell of seawater spraying against the rocks. The morning, as far as Kylo can tell, is going to be perfect.

In less than a week, it will be two years since Hux had established the sovereignty of his Empire. The oncoming days are marked with another anniversary, of a far more private nature: it's been one year since Hux accepted the shift in their relationship and the depth of his own involvement. They have progressed even more since then, becoming irreversibly entangled, and Kylo shouldn't be presuming, shouldn't allow himself to get excited... and yet. The Emperor has come to celebrate the anniversary on Naboo.

Hux knows what Naboo means to his Knight, or at least Kylo hopes he does. He doesn't know for sure - he doesn't dare to ask - but he hopes. The idea that this could be a sort of a personal gift to him makes him giddy with anticipation. Perhaps Hux had chosen the setting with a special occasion on mind...

Calm down, Kylo tells himself. Just because Hux isn't ashamed of being associated with him doesn't mean he would want anything to change. The Emperor deliberately matches his outfits with Kylo's more often than not. At state dinners, their seats are next to each other more often than not. Kylo couldn't sneak unnoticed around the Palace forever, the staff has long ago learned where he spends most of his nights and word got out quickly and properly embellished. Everyone assumes they are a couple - and that's just it. Everyone is left to their assumptions and nothing more.

Of course Kylo knows how Hux feels about him. He could happily die with the knowledge that Hux loves him, no one else but him. What they have is theirs and no one else's, no one else's opinion matters, so who cares what people think and say. Hux certainly doesn't. Kylo shouldn't care, too.

Kylo closes his eyes briefly, the path of gold from the rising sun spilled across the sea still floating in the centre of his vision, and goes back in to dress.

They are not in the same palace that housed them a couple of months before, during their bet about who would better hold his own against the other. That one house, lofty and ostentatiously furnished (though Hux and Ren had made a couple of - quite literal - dents in some pieces) was located in the mountains and they chose it because of the season; Kylo knew how badly Hux bore heat. But now the weather is mild, winds gentle and temperature ideal, and they are stationed in the former imperial residence at the sea. The house sprawls over the low cliff like a half-organic, half-geometric shell of some sea creature, the balconies stretching above the glittering waters, the waves lapping at the walls in a ceaseless whisper that permeates the whole building.  Its windows and walls are designed so that the house breathes in the soft winds, the cooling air passing through the house unrestricted, and Kylo imagines how it would sing in a storm, with the windows shuttered down against the raging sea, the very foundations shaking under the onslaught of waves but holding on, clinging to the rocks like something grown from them.

Kylo intercepts the hospitality droid in the main corridor and orders it to set the breakfast table on the balcony. The sun is on the rise, the Emperor likes to get up early, and Kylo doesn't want him to miss the view.

But when he knocks at the door of the Emperor's suite and enters, he finds Hux already dressed and finishing his morning cup of caf. All the traces of morning softness Kylo hoped to admire in the golden sunlight are already wiped from his face, replaced by the hard lines that appear when Hux is mentally organising his duties for the day. Kylo frowns: Hux has been getting better at this. It's taken ages to Kylo to convince him to delegate at least some of the work onto his subordinates, to enjoy at least some luxuries of his station. He'd even taken to help with the paperwork, on most days. Hux's throw-away remark about it being the traditional duty of the Consort has stuck with him. They've never breached the subject again but now when Kylo shows up in the morning to sit beside Hux on his favourite couch and go over the reports with him, Hux doesn't send him away. Kylo would kill anyone who'd as much as hint at it but to himself he can admit that he enjoys this, enjoys even this uninspiring and tedious work, if it means spending more time with Hux. Off duty and out of bed, not as his Knight and not as his bedmate, just as a... partner. He appreciates these moments of quiet and efficient companionship perhaps more than he appreciated Hux's tongue in his arse the first time he was made to do the paperwork.

"You're very pretty when you blush like that," Hux drawls, the stony put-up front cracking for a moment with a genuine smile. "A credit for your thoughts, Kylo."

Kylo realises that he's standing in the doorway, staring... and oh yes, replaying that particular memory in a rather vivid detail. "They are worth much more than that," he collects himself. "You're up very early."

Hux half-turns, the shutters of his public persona falling down around him once again. "Couldn't sleep much. The noise is... not what I am used to."

Kylo becomes aware of the ever-present rhythmic splashing sound of the sea. He finds it soothing, and after few hours in this house he has dismissed it from consciousness. But Hux has spent all his life on a starship, and the last two years in his floating palace on Coruscant...  he must be missing the steady electronic hum of the engines.

"Yes, it is rather noisy... but it has other perks. Come with me, I ordered us breakfast. You'll like it."

"Our stay here is not a vacation, Ren," Hux says, with his usual disdain for every little indulgence Ren tries to make him enjoy. But he follows him out of the bedroom all the same, through the parlour and the guard's anteroom that Kylo had appropriated as his bedroom, coming to a halt at the wide patio door leading onto the balcony. Kylo throws out his arm towards the dazzling golden sunrise as if it is his merit. Well, he supposes, he can't take credit for the planetary rotation but he did order breakfast.

Hux regards the tableau silently, lips pressed into a thin line on an otherwise perfectly blank face. Then he sighs. "If you insist, I suppose I can indulge you."

Then he steps around the chair that Kylo helpfully draws out for him, takes the seat opposite, with his back to the sea, and immediately focuses on the food on his plate.

No comment on the magical scenery and Kylo feels a little hurt - but at the same time he's immensely pleased that Hux is eating and that he's eating with him. Living off a cup of caf and a cigarette in the morning cannot be healthy, he reasons with himself. So he sinks gratefully onto the chair meant for Hux and dives into his food. As far as he's concerned, the view got even better: Hux's silhouette is outlined with a golden halo, every hair on his head shining like a copper wire, his porcelain skin bathed in soft bluish shadow.

All too soon, Hux's plate is cleared and another cup of caf empty. The Emperor waits for another minute, fingers tapping against the tabletop, and when Kylo's silence makes it clear that he's content just to sit, chew slowly and admire the view, he gets up.

"I checked your schedule," Kylo blurts out before he can think better of it. Hux hates it, having tabs kept on him, he knows. He's overstepping. But he ploughs on: "You're not required to attend anything for another two hours–"

"This has been nice, Kylo," Hux says, and his voice doesn't suggest anger, even though there's something off to it. "You're welcome to enjoy the sun a little more but I don't fancy getting blisters."

Oh. But it's so early in the morning, Kylo thinks, the sun can't be that strong yet, certainly not enough to burn. And there's a note of avoidance in Hux's voice, his intonation too careless, too off-hand. Then Kylo recalls that one morning after they returned from a particularly sunny planet and he'd watched Hux applying whitening skin-cream on his sun-dappled skin...

"I like your freckles," he quirks a grin, pleased that he's caught Hux at a petty lie, at trying to hide his vanity of all things. He loves Hux's perfection but he loves his flaws even more.

Hux turns in the patio doorway, the sun briefly catching in his eyes, sea green and sky blue and so bright that Kylo's chest constricts. For a second, his face is alight with a smile Kylo can't decipher, wry around the mouth but almost unbearably affectionate around the eyes, and then Hux nods and leaves.

Kylo doesn't try to stop him. What he'd wanted - breakfast with the Emperor with the most beautiful view this palace offers - he'd technically got. Hux's plate and cup are empty. And yet Ren feels as if he'd failed somehow. There was something else besides the fear of new freckles, something that manifested in the twitching of Hux's fingers when they weren't holding onto utensils, in the closed-off guardedness on his face, unreadable against the halo of the sun. He contemplates reaching out with the Force and feel Hux's mind but he knows he'd be rejected, and what's worse, it would make Hux rightfully angry. Hux shares the surface of his mind with him sometimes, and he allows the Knight to soothe the thrum of his thoughts when he's tired. Unsolicited prying though is still a gross offence, a disobedience of direct orders. Doesn't matter how many breakfasts in private they enjoy, Hux and Ren are still the Emperor and his Knight.

Kylo finishes his meal in a dampened mood. He swipes the crumbs over the balcony railing, directly into the water rippling just about two metres beneath the balcony, and huffs a laugh when a school of fish swarms up to the water surface to fight over the crumbs in flashes of red and white.  

 

 


	2. II

That evening Hux allows Ren to undress him. The long day spent in the company of representatives of many worlds was nothing short of exhausting. His fingers fumble with the tiny buttons of his dress whites and Kylo takes his hands, massaging the bony palms and delicate fingers while he pops the buttons from their holes using the Force, a show that elicits an amused chuckle from the Emperor. Hux still holds onto Ren's hand when he slides into bed, and it's the easiest thing for Kylo to shed his simple robe one-handed and follow him between the sheets. The Knight folds his body around him like an added blanket, the steady beat of his heart almost enough to drown out the incessant crashing of water against the house walls.

There's something timid about Kylo tonight. An eagerness to please coupled with nervous hesitation, palpable in the way he puts his arm around Hux's waist, carefully, gingerly, as if he's not sure he's allowed. As if there's a line whose exact position he doesn't know but desperately tries not to cross. Hux sighs internally. It's this morning - of course it is, nothing else happened for which Kylo should feel guilty, and even that wasn't his fault. Hux just doesn't want to explain.

He can tell Kylo tries his best to keep himself from using the Force to pry into his thoughts. It would be so easy to let him. But Hux isn't one to just let things happen, isn't one to let go and have someone else to take responsibility. He will cope as he always does. Kylo doesn't need to know about his - this problem. It's of no consequence to him. Surely even the closest partners aren't required to confine in each other without any exception. Even the most devout of spouses have their secrets. Hux will just have to guard his better, and make it up to Kylo when his efforts become too obvious.

Kylo looked so... rejected this morning. And Hux can't even say sorry for that, because that would mean admitting there's something to apologise for, and that's impossible.

Hux nuzzles his face in the Knight's chest, inhales the scent collected in the hollow under a collarbone, mouths along the firm line of pectoral, licks one soft, flat nipple. It peaks and hardens under his tongue.

Kylo shifts, his big body relaxing into the mattress. Some of the nervous tension leaves him, even though it's swiftly replaced from another source - a cumbersome consideration. Namely, he tries to squirm away from Hux's mouth:

"Hux, you - It's been a long day. Just rest. You're tired."

"And you're delicious."

Hux takes another teasing lick, slithering lower. The expanse of Kylo's stomach is warm and lovely, the thin layer of suppleness over hard muscle just enough for Hux to sink his teeth into, feel the ticklish flutter spread under his tongue. Ren's skin tastes faintly after salt and fainter still after the oil he uses after sparring. Hux maps the edges and tendrils of the old scar spidering from Ren's side, the cicatrix tissue slightly raised and less sensitive to touch. Kylo is delectable, especially to Hux who likes the taste of power because the man _is_ power; just the strength needed to withstand such a wound amazes him. And all of this, those arms, chest, sculpted abdomen, bodily resilience, unimaginable Force powers, all this belongs to Hux. It's his to command, his to enjoy, his to admire. No one has touched Ren like that before and no one else ever will–

Hux cuts off that train of thought before it gets too loud, shifts to lie between Ren's thighs and plants a line of soft, wet kisses up the length of Ren's cock - even in its half-hard state, it's already pretty, just as long and thick as the rest of him and quickly filling up under the attention.

Again, that self-conscious jump.

"You don't have to–"

Hux clamps down on the soft inside of Ren's thigh, hard enough to cut off the offending sentence with a high-pitched yelp that half-way breaks into a moan. That was dangerously close to the mark; Ren has become too good at reading him. Hux presses his momentary advantage and continues his attack, biting and licking his way up Ren's torso until he can loom over him, elbows braced on Ren's shoulders, shifting and bucking hips pinned under his knees. He needs to convince Kylo that this isn't about anything – it's simply what he wants.

He always wants Kylo. That much is the truth.

"What is it, Kylo? Are you perhaps not in the mood?" He slowly brings his hips lower and grinds them against Kylo's hardness in one slow, teasing roll. "Because _this_ seems to suggest otherwise."

Ren seems to be successfully sidetracked because all he manages for an immediate response is a gasp, a moment later followed by a coy smile and a more coherent effort: " _That_ is always in the mood."

"How fortuitous," Hux grins back, showing his teeth in a threat to any future misbehaving, and resumes his previous course.

Sometimes he likes to imagine - just to ramp up the tingle spreading under his skin, the fantasy adding an extra layer to the physical pleasure - what would his subjects say if they saw him sucking his Knight's cock, worshipping him with his tongue, taking him as deep as he can. How they would gape at the subservience. How odd they would find it - all those dimwits who can't imagine what real power looks like. How beautifully Kylo gives himself over to the sensations, how quickly he loses any semblance of control, leaving every bit of it to Hux. Just as it always should be, Hux thinks darkly and swallows around the head of Kylo's cock, daringly close to the back of his throat. He needs to feel in control tonight. Always.  

Kylo is a sight for the gods like this, feast for every sense. Hux loves the taste of him, the texture of his skin, the heat filling his mouth, the sounds Kylo makes. Loves that he can play his sensitiveness like a complex instrument, finely tuned to one and only player - himself. Loves that he can put his mouth on places nobody else has even seen.

Kylo keens and the fingers resting lightly on Hux's nape curl and dig in - just a fraction, in a warning. Hux catches the first salty spur on his tongue and directs the rest to land on Kylo's stomach, stroking him till the last drop pools around his belly button. Hux drags his fingers through it, smearing it across Kylo's trembling lips and following his fingers with a filthy kiss, pushing the slickness on his tongue into Kylo's mouth and letting him suck it clean.

"What about you? May I–" Kylo tries as soon as his mouth is free, obviously intent to put it to use again. Hux shushes him with another peck on the lips and then he nudges him to roll onto his side, slotting his long and narrow body behind Kylo's broad one.

Kylo obediently parts his legs, bringing the upper one forth, exposing himself, and reaches for the bedside table. Hux smacks him lightly across the arm and then twines their fingers together before he can retrieve the lube.

"Too tired for that, after all," he chuckles a little. He pats Kylo's thigh, traces his fingers across the long muscles there. Then he trails his hand up and collects the rest of the cooling come from Kylo's abdomen. "Can you squeeze your legs for me?"

With a bit of added spit the come is enough to make the passage between Kylo's things slick and tight, as Kylo presses them together the best he can. Hux thrusts lazily, dragging it out, not really feeling up to anything vigorous - this warm, lovely friction, slowly building up heat is perfect in its own way. Kylo is so pliant and accommodating, his body boneless after orgasm and content in their cocoon of intimacy, hands clasped, fingers entwined, bodies touching from nape to knees. When Hux comes, it's a rounded peak of that steady rise of arousal and a similar gentle slide back into low humming pleasure, his softening cock still snug between Kylo's heavy legs and Hux can feel himself drifting into sleep.

When Kylo speaks, it's so soft Hux for a moment thinks he's already dreaming.

"Is it better now?"

So much for distracting him. Hux brushes the tip of his nose against the bump of Kylo's spine and murmurs:

"You're always so good for me, Kylo."

It will have to do, for now.

 

 


	3. III

Kylo has to rise early the next day to debrief his Knights and see to their assignments - the days leading up to the Empire anniversary are wont to attract desperate fools who think a bomb or a blaster shot could make everything better. The Emperor's bed is long cold and empty when he peeks into the suite later.

It doesn't matter. He'd done some scouting and he has his eyes on another chance this afternoon.

True to his plans, the late afternoon hour finds them - just Hux and him, the usual Imperial bodyguards dismissed for now - taking a leisure stroll through the woods not far from the palace. Kylo has picked the time carefully: the air has lost the midday heat but it's still warm, the shade under the trees infused with the poignant scent of resin over the sweeter, heavier base of damp earth. The breeze has stilled to nothing and that's why it comes as a complete surprise to Hux when they round a rock outcropping at the end of a small ridge and suddenly the trees make way to white sand. The little beach slopes gently into turquoise water, clear as glass and still as a mirror - the small bay is closed off by rocky headlands almost completely, trees sheltering it from the mainland winds and rocks keeping the shore break out. The sandy beach is so small that the trees growing around cast long shadows over the water in the low hanging sun. Kylo chose this spot well - there will be no complaints over blisters. Or freckles.

The ridge they came around to here runs further into the lagoon in a little natural bulwark and Kylo throws a grin over his shoulder as he jumps upon the first boulder, then the next, shedding his clothes as he goes before he dives from the farthest peak into the water. The feeling as his palms, head, shoulders hit the cool water is electrifying, the sudden cold of it freezing his lungs for a moment before he surfaces again, shaking the salty droplets out of his eyes and treading water to smile at his Emperor.

The Emperor, who stands under the trees, tall and immobile as if rooted into the ground amongst them.

"Come on," Kylo calls, taking a few strokes closer. "What are you waiting for?"

Hux pokes the sand with the tip of one boot.

"You really shouldn't be jumping head first into unknown waters. There are far nobler ways to break your neck."

Kylo laughs. The concern warms him even in the chilly water.

"I scouted this out this morning," he assures Hux. "The water's deep enough everywhere below these rocks. The beach end is shallow for about three metres and then it drops - see where the water changes colour?"

He waves his hand to indicate where the cerulean blue of barely a couple of feet of water gradually saturates into rich jade green. Hux isn't looking, though. His gaze seems to be fixed on the rocks Kylo jumped from, lips pursed.

"I am not frolicking in the sea naked like some water creature," he informs Kylo, who indeed abandoned all of his clothing on the rocks and is now floating in the water as bare as the day he was born.

"Don't tell me you've developed prudishness after–" Kylo gets a noseful of water from an unexpected wave and has to snort it out, or pretends he does, because he doesn't want to remind Hux of _two years of fucking me_ , doesn't want to seem like the one who's been counting.

When he blinks the water out of his eyes again, Hux looks even less impressed than he did before.

"I don't fancy being ogled by anyone unfortunate enough to get lost in these woods and stumble out here."

"I would sense them," Kylo says with confidence. "I would feel them approaching and fill their minds with horrific visions to make them turn and flee." He laughs as he says it, knowing that the particular image might appeal to Hux's vindictive streak.

"Also I hardly think this is the season for bathing." Hux is now looking up to the sky through the tree branches, face scrunched in consideration.

"You're the one who likes cold," Kylo reminds him. "Are you afraid you'd shrink?" He grins again in response to Hux's eye roll. "I could warm you afterwards. With my mouth."

"You're childish."

"And you're fishing for excuses. Come on, does the great Emperor not know how to swim?" And Kylo splashes water at Hux, even though it falls pitifully short across the distance separating them, and ducks his head underwater to hide his laughing face.

When he surfaces again, the beach is empty.

 _Kriff_. Kylo nearly swallows a mouthful of seawater. He heaves himself up, feet treading water furiously, but there's not even a glimpse of Hux to be seen among the trees.

 _Stupid, stupid_ , Kylo berates himself. Leisure time is all fun and games until one crosses the line between teasing and disrespectful. Now he's made Hux with his incessant - yes, childish - goading and ruined what could have been a nice moment...

He swims back to the rocks and climbs up, the stone warm under his hands, dried moss crumbling off the edges. He collects his clothes and stretches on the largest boulder for a while to let the sun dry him a bit before he puts them on.

Perhaps Hux really doesn't know how to swim. It occurs to Kylo as something almost laughable - Hux, despite his slight build, excels at most physical activities. He's able to take down Kylo in fight, as he had proved on this very planet. But swimming... it makes sense, Kylo thinks. There weren't any pools on Finalizer. It would have been a waste of resources for the First Order Academy to teach the cadets a skill they weren't going to use in space.  

 Kylo could teach him. But he would have to be more... diplomatic about it. No laughing at in the first place. Their roles are usually reversed - Hux can be the most patient teacher and Kylo the most eager pupil, and not only in bed. Switch these roles and Kylo is certain they're going to clash and fight. His own short temper isn't exactly conductive to teaching and Hux takes directions about as well as a Star Destroyer heeds the traction beam of a little tugboat.

Kylo sighs, eyeing sadly the perfect lagoon that doesn't look so alluring now when there's nobody to enjoy it with. He should have known Hux would be too stressed from the celebrations to simply brush off silly jokes.

And then there's one more possible answer to this riddle, Kylo thinks gloomily as he makes his careful way back to land. Hux may damn well know how to swim. He just didn't want to take a dip with Kylo.

 

 

 


	4. IV

Ren's room is empty when Hux walks through it on the way to his bedroom later that night, much too late even for his standards. It's not a problem per se - his Knight is nothing but dutiful in the matters of Hux's security, and Hux pauses to look briefly into the darkened corridors and out of the sturdy windows and catch a glimpse of a familiar shadow. Sure enough, there he is - a swish of a long coat disappearing behind a bush in the moons-lit garden, silent and vigilant - one of the other Knights that Kylo has guarding Hux in his stead when he needs to be elsewhere.

It seems that Kylo has a lot of places to be all of a sudden, lately. And Hux has only himself to blame.

The bed is cold and crisply clean and entirely too big. The sheets smell like this entire palace: cooling like the rocks beneath it, perpetually washed over with waves, and pungent with sea salt. The servants have of course changed the soiled bedding from last night. Hux drapes his arm over the empty place next to him and wishes they hadn't.

A meeting with the trading guilds swallows the better part of the next day. Ren and his companion make an appearance, towering like black pillars on either side of the room, their faceless masks a silent menace that works marvels in speeding up the negotiations. They sneak out like smoke from the fire site just before the agreements are ready to be signed, moving as one, the other Knight following his Master without any word, any gesture passed between them. Hux envies the easy way of communication the Force lends to the Knights of Ren. He knows Ren could enter his mind but that's not a thing Hux is ready to allow on a daily basis - they'd done it, a precious few of times, and every time Hux was left feeling raw and winded, sore around the edges, his core trembling and coiling on itself from the emotional overload. He trusts Kylo with his life and with his heart but he's not built to share himself entirely. Kylo understands. The Force is a spiritual, transcendental thing, and though Hux may have learned to believe, he still is and forever will be an outsider.

Perhaps that's why Kylo trusts him in turn, gives up his control to him, bestows himself into Hux's hands. All his previous masters wanted just the Force within him, wanted to twist it to their purposes and cared little for the vessel that contained it. Hux has no access to the Force, can't use it on his own - if he wants it to serve him, he must take care of its wielder, and that's what brought Kylo to his knees before him those two years ago.

Hux is abruptly reminded of that tumultuous time when he's walking down the corridor with some representatives of the local government and just as they're passing the door to the guards room - Kylo's room - there's a vicious crash of something hard against something ever harder and then the prolonged, scattering noise of glass shards raining onto the paved floor.

There is a large mirror in Kylo's room, Hux remembers. Though it seems prudent to say that it _was_. The Naboo entourage shares a startled, concerned look, and Hux keeps his expressions schooled into blankness as if his Knight wracking furniture is a common occurrence. Even though it hasn't happened in months. Through the course of their relationship, Ren has learned to come to Hux whenever his frustration over anything could reach destructive limits.

Maybe the reason he _can't_ come to Hux is that his frustration is with Hux himself... the Emperor tightens the grip of his fingers at his own wrist behind his back and keeps walking, the flow of his words smooth as if nothing happened.

The delegation leaves after a hurried dinner and nightfall settles over the house like a heavy blanket, numbing every activity under the hypnotic sound of crashing waves. Hux lingers in the deserted dining hall, swirling the nectarwine in his glass and waiting – for what, he's not sure. For a snap. The air is tense, stars on the horizon drowned out by gathering clouds, wind beating against the house in hissing gusts, the roll of waves over the rocks harder by the minute. 

The big door crack open silently and Kylo stops just behind it. He wears the light outfit he uses for meditation, loose tunic and leggings that don't cut off his circulation like the leather reinforced trousers would when he sits cross-legged for hours. Kylo's eyes sweep over Hux and dart away, leaving behind a sensation not unlike the itching of a scabbed wound.

"Come here," Hux says after a minute of silence when it dawns on him that this is one of the days Ren needs the prompting. "What is the matter, Kylo?"

The Knight crosses the expanse of the hall, shoulders slumping with every step, and then he slides to his knees next to Hux's chair and plops his head on his lap in one heavy, sagging motion.

"I can't focus," he mumbles into the fabric of Hux's trousers. "I tried to meditate but... I can't _think_ , Hux."

"What, you too?" Hux chuckles before he can stop himself. That was too close to admission that this house is getting under his skin. Luckily it seems that Ren hasn't heard him, too concentrated onto the feeling of Hux's fingers carding gently through the hair just above his nape.

"What do you need?" he asks instead, clear and firm. He taps the edge of Kylo's ear to drive the question home. The Knight turns his head slightly, one uncertain, feverish eye peering up on him.

"Your hand," he says, almost too low to be heard.

Hux's heart misses a beat before his brain recovers enough to realise what Kylo means: his _guiding_ hand, a hand that metes out punishment for whatever transgression Kylo imagines he'd committed, a hand to bring order into the chaos of his mind.

There wasn't a reason to take Kylo in hand for months now. Has he grown negligent to his lover's needs? Hux presses his knuckles into the tense muscles along the bumps on the back of Ren's neck, working around the hard knots. Kylo looks and feels incredibly high-strung, six feet of frustration shifting under the too hot skin. Hux trails his hand down his back, soothing the twitching muscles under the thin fabric, and then his fingers slip under the waistband of his trousers to cup one cheek, the pleasingly round muscle tensing under his hand. A shiver runs through Kylo and he reflexively shifts higher on Hux's lap, offering his arse for better reach.

"Is this what you want?" Hux asks as he squeezes the supple flesh, imagining the white lines swiftly turning pink - the marks left on the skin by his fingernails, now still hidden inside Ren's trousers.

Kylo nods, his eyes closed and a little of the troubled expression seeping away from his face. He moves to loosen the ties of his trousers and that's when Hux notices the flash of white. Kylo had up to now kept his hand out of sight. Hux hisses and snatches it by the wrist, bringing it up for inspection.

The gauze is wrapped around Ren's knuckles and the back of his hand, the spots where blood seeped through already dry and black. Hux remembers the crash of the mirror. Not a thrown object, then.

"I'm sorry." It's rushed, and too soon, and it feels like an apology for a completely different offence.  A single broken mirror doesn't warrant this level of guilt.

"As you should be," Hux says nonetheless. "I know enough of your teachings to know you see pain as a way to the Dark Side but you aren't to hurt yourself, do you understand?"

Another nod. Then a tiny, keening noise when Hux presses his lips to the bandages as if a kiss could heal the wound. He should get up, activate the household droids and have them fetch some bacta patches, the wound is still fresh enough to prevent scarring - but Ren is a warrior, his arms and hands are a map of scars and little burns from the unstable blade of his lightsaber, and more importantly, he needs Hux now.    

"Clothes off and bend over the table." Kylo rises to follow the order so eagerly that he nearly overbalances.

"I trust you scared everyone off the vicinity of this room," Hux smiles when the last of Kylo's clothes hits the floor and the Knight is sprawled in front of him. He runs a possessive hand across the pale expanse of back, the dip of his spine arching as Kylo plants his feet wider, his hands crossed lightly above his head. Still so jittery, desperate to comply and yet, almost scared. Hux's instincts tell him that whatever the problem is, it runs far deeper that one afternoon of failed behaviour.

"This isn't a punishment," he murmurs soothingly. Just to make things clear. 

"This is because you need it, and because you like it, and because I care for both these things." He raises his hand and delivers the first smack, firm but not too hard, for starters.

"I care for you, Kylo." Another smack. "Never forget that." The next smack is harder than he intended but it's what makes Kylo finally release a shuddering, breathy sigh and go boneless on top of the table, his arse raised towards Hux's hand.

Hux peppers the pale flesh with quick slaps, measured to build up heat. Soon the milky skin - lighter than the rest of Kylo's body despite his fondness of bathing in the nude - starts to turn pink, patches of deeper red where he'd hit the same spot over and over just to make Kylo gasp and writhe. Soon enough, there's a damp spot on the waxed old wood where Kylo's face rests, the long dark eyelashes of his squeezed shut eyes spiked with wetness. What can Hux see of his face is flushed and shiny with sweat and his jaw is slack with enjoyment, lips red and bitten raw. His body shifts with every blow, muscles clenching on reflex and hips rocking into the sensation, but the table is sturdy, it doesn't move an inch.

Hux pauses to admire his handiwork and rub small circles on the tender skin. It's now warm to the touch and Kylo jumps a little when he pinches it.

"Hux... please." The words are half-slurred, voice raspy, the way it gets when Kylo enjoys himself too much to articulate properly. "I need more."

"More of what? Of this?" Hux raises his hand and swats Kylo's arse, hard. Bright red imprint blooms on the pink skin and Kylo yelps, fingers scrambling for hold on the smooth table surface. "Or this?" Hux slips two fingers between Kylo's arsecheeks, teasing at his rim. He inhales sharply in surprise when slick dribbles down his hand and two fingers meet no resistance, a third barely any.

"Presumptuous," Hux clicks his tongue. Beneath him, the corner of Kylo's mouth twitches in a blissed-out attempt at smirk.

Hux leans down, draping himself over Kylo's back. The starched fabric of his formal dinner clothes chafes at Kylo's tender bottom but his weight is enough to make the squirming utterly futile as he whispers in Kylo's ear: "You'll get what you want... all in due time."

The next series of swats are slower, blows spaced out so that the impact of each one has time to bloom from the sharp bite into a rolling, spreading, throbbing sensation - and hard, hard enough that his palm burns. Kylo is getting louder now, voice hoarser, the rhythm of it like an ancient, primal incantation, lulling even Hux into some kind of trance. He almost regrets stopping. The skin of Kylo's arse is rosy red now and hot to touch. But Hux can't keep himself waiting anymore. Rubbing his right hand all over Ren's back in long, soothing caresses he shucks down his trousers with the left, spits in his palm, slicks himself up and pushes in deep, and deeper, the whole way inside until his hips come to rest on blood-hot cheeks and he groans with pleasure.

He wants to drag it out, he wants to keep giving Kylo what he wants as a belated apology for yesterday, but he can't last - not with Kylo's hole fluttering around him every time his hips touch the heated bottom of his arse, not when Kylo keeps grinding into his groin as if the prickle of his trimmed pubic hair on the raw skin is not painful but delightful, not with Kylo groaning with every thrust, his body mellowed and docile and so, so warm. Hux comes hard, the heat around his cock wringing the climax out of him at surprising speed. He has enough presence of mind to pull out and direct the last spurts of come onto Ren's backside, the contrast of white over red making his insides throb one more time before he's utterly spent.

Kylo is spread on the table before him, still breathing wetly and hips twitching in little involuntary motions against empty air. But his face is clear now, a serene look around his eyes that Hux knows and cherishes like a hard-won achievement. He knows that if he touched Ren's face now, brought their temples together, the unrestrained broadcast of Ren's mind would spill over into his and he would feel it - the calm, the plateau of pleasure, the all-encompassing feeling of safety. Sometimes, it would be enough, this transcendental feeling better than the rush and comedown of orgasm. There are many kinds of satiation.

But not tonight. Tonight, Hux bends low and begins to lick away the white-on-red marks on his lover. Kylo moans weakly at the rasp of Huxs tongue on his oversensitive skin, and then louder when Hux slips two fingers back into his hole to press against his prostate. Hux wraps his other hand around his heavy cock and strokes, gentle but sure, and Kylo only gives an overcome sigh and spills onto the floor, knees sagging under him . The glasses at the farther end of the table clink faintly but the wooden structure holds on.

Hux keeps one hand on Kylo, caressing and petting his hair to make the floating feeling last as long as possible. He tucks himself in and straightens his clothes as best as he can one-handed. Kylo blinks up at him, soft and a little confused like a morning person that had slept far too long, and he looks better - perhaps he feels better, too.

Is it better now? Hux wants to ask but swallows the words when they remind him when did he hear them last. Outside, behind the automatically shut windows, the sea is storming.

 

 


	5. V

Morning dawns fresh and vibrant, sky painted with the bright, clean-washed colour it has after rain, every droplet of water still clinging to the wrought railing of the pier a perfect miniature of the glittering world. Kylo lets his gaze skim over the varicoloured bustle of the crowd gathered on both sides of the road and tunes his mind to sift through the murmur of their thoughts, scanning for any potential threats. There aren't any.

Winning Naboo over peacefully was hard; the planet had a history of steadfast adherence to Republic ideals, especially among the Gungans. Kylo's own blood ties roused mixed feelings. In the end it was more the effect of Hux's practical and benevolent policy than any sentiment over Ren's heritage that had swayed public opinion in favour of the new Empire.

Even so it was a risk to bring the celebrations on this planet. Kylo looks past his naïve hopes for this to mean something personal just to the two of them and sees it for what it probably is:  a daring show of power on Hux's part, a message to all remaining opponents that he's not afraid to showcase the glamour of his Empire on this once stronghold of the Old Republic. The security department is on edge. Kylo personally oversees everything. There is no room for mistake. Two other Knights are here with him, disguised and mingling with the crowd. They're sending him a thin but constant stream of reports, suffused with a deeply running feeling of reassurance. All is well.

The Master of the Knights of Ren himself stands proudly at the end of the pier, the last in the short line of local dignitaries and Imperial guards. He forwent his black helmet today; fear would spoil the joy of this morning. His face is bare of any make-up - his usual colour scheme is reserved for the current Queen, after all, and he can indulge in this bit of cultural appropriation when he's anywhere but on Naboo. His robes, at least, match the occasion - ornamental enough to not stick out like a sore thumb amongst the lavishly dressed royal entourage but still giving him freedom of movement in fight. The fabric is a bit heavy but nothing compared to his usual armour. Even with his scar, he knows he makes a fine sight - he reads it in the eyes that happen to fall upon him. Regal and detached, singled out both by his powers and his duty. The Enforcer awaiting his Emperor.

They have been lent a pair of bongo submarines today, by the courtesy of the Boss, for a scenic ride through the oceanic Gungan settlement. Kylo couldn't hide his excitement about this as soon as he saw this proposition on the itinerary on the day they arrived on Naboo. The organic technique used to grow these vehicles is still secret held by the Gungans, making the bongos a strange hybrid between some not-exactly-living organism and advanced technology, and Kylo is thrilled by the idea of seeing the sea life, the depths and vastness of the ocean from within, separated from the water by nothing but a flimsi-thin hydrostatic bubble shield.  

Of course Ren is going to be on board because of his guard duty to the Emperor. But just for a moment, he can pretend, can't he? He can imagine they hired a bongo just for the two of them and are down there alone, just them and the marine life all around, ever-changing and colourful.  

"Sir," he hears Phasma's voice, a bit fainter than he should, engrossed in the scanning of the crowd. He turns his gaze to her, sleek and tall as ever even without her chrome, the now black-clad Captain of the Imperial guard. "The Emperor is here."

"What?" _He's not_ , his mind immediately supplies with certainty. He would feel Hux if he was near, he always feels his presence, the one calm spot in the general tumble of minds, like a beacon calling him to his side. Ren frowns, looks past Phasma's shoulder onto the road leading up to the pier and momentarily his composure falters. Striding next to the young Queen, conversing amicably, is the Emperor.

Except that this is not Hux. It's his double, one of several he keeps around. This one is actually a distant relative of the Huxes, a man of the same slight build, with the inch he's lacking supplemented by clever insoles in his shoes, his naturally ginger hair perfected by precise dye work and his face - so familiar to all his subjects and yet so strange to Ren - mimicking Hux's smile, the lift of his eyebrows, the habitual clench of his jaw. What few years this man has on the real Hux is masked by the touch of make-up, silver powder sprinkled on his cheeks and dove-blue shadows framing his eyelids. Ren withdraws his gaze, regretting the day he first painted Hux's face, the day he taught Hux how to wear his colours.

There's no reason to use a double today. The planet is loyal, there's been no intel regarding possible assassinations plans, the place is safe, everything double-checked, triple-guarded.

Hux knew how excited Kylo had been about the submarine ride. He'd probably guessed Kylo's little fantasy and removed himself from it. Hux cares for him, trusts him, loves him even - but only in private.

Kylo schools his face into a mask of indifference. It's bad enough Phasma has seen his confusion; he will not give anyone the chance to watch his heart break with every step this fake Emperor takes towards him.  He's grateful for the protocol to give some guidance to the autopilot controlling his body: deep bow, step aside, fall in two steps behind the Emperor, follow him inside the bongo. 

"Well, Ren, this should be fun, shouldn't it?" 

"I'm sure it will, your Majesty."

 

*

 

 

The door beeps with an entry requesting signal and Hux turns away from the window, eyes momentarily dazzled by the glare of high sky and sun beating down on the horizon where the two kinds of blue meet in one undisturbed, dreadfully flat and vaguely threatening line. This particular building in the city is too far off the shore for him to see any of the happenings in the harbour but he'd tried. 

"Yes?" 

"The bongos are to return in thirty standard minutes, Sir." Phasma keeps her fingers on the communicator band, one ear bud in and active as she speaks.  

"There's been no signs of any suspicious activity so far." 

"Keep looking."  

"As you command."  

She's seen through his bluff, Hux is sure of it. He doesn't know if it's respect for their friendship or a mere sense of self-preservation that she hasn't called him out on it yet.  

She salutes smartly and executes a perfect ninety degrees turn to leave when suddenly her movements falter. Even a couple of steps away, Hux can hear the staticky crack of rushed words in her earpiece.  

She presses the flat of her palm to her ear and frowns. "Repeat." More cracking. The comm on her armband beeps. She turns half-back, eyebrows climbing slowly up as she regards Hux with something unreadable in her eyes.  

"What's the matter?" he demands. Hunch, he'd said this morning, a mere hunch based on some intel that didn't add up as it should, that's what he told Phasma when he ordered to ready his double. He's having a hunch now, a real one.  

"Well, sir, I don't know how you could've possibly known but you're were right," Phasma replies when the transmission stops, terse and business-like, already focused on dispatching pre-typed orders from her comm. "One of our patrols didn't turn up on the check." 

Hux is at the table in two strides, rerouting the security report onto his datapad and grabbing a jacket, a black and inconspicuous thing with the red buttons of Phasma's unit.  

"And where exactly do you think you're going _now_ , Sir?" Phasma rushes behind him. _Now_ , when there's an actual reason to hide, goes unspoken.  

"It's the bongos they'll be after," Hux reminds her and pulls on the cap. It hides most of his hair.  

"Any unauthorised landings or flypasts low enough for an airdrop?" 

"None, sir," Phasma frowns again, double-checking. "Wait... None on this hemisphere, that is. There's been one this morning on the opposite side, a tourist bongo expedition according to their clearance, but they can't make it here that fast-" 

"They can."  

Hux tugs on the fingerless gloves and wraps the belt with the blaster-holder around his hips. He remembers very well everything Ren has told him over the first dinner here, brimming with excitement. How the water goes deep, without hitting a bottom, through the wormed-out planet core to connect both oceans on either side. What monsters hide deep in the dark waters and how desperate must one be to take that route.  

"We've got to warn the bongos."  

"Comms won't reach them underwater," Hux grits his teeth. This attempt is very well planned. "And I bet you twenty credits that when you try the sonar station, you'll find the equipment sabotaged." 

Phasma barks out an enquiry, listens on the multiple replies, and the tight draw of her mouth is enough of a response. 

Twenty minutes now before the bongos - with the Queen, with the fake Emperor, with _Ren_ \- will be safely up again. Hux jogs down the steps into the open street, almost forgetting not to get ahead of Phasma - she's his captain now, and he a mere soldier in her elite unit. _Ren,_ he thinks, concentrating as hard as he can _, Kylo_. The Knight always tells him how difficult it is to get a read on Hux's thoughts; how relaxing it is to be near him after a day of dealing with everyone else's loud, careless minds. Now Hux wishes he could scream inside and get the sound into Kylo's head, for once in his life he wishes they were connected like... 

...the other Knights. Where are they? 

Ten minutes mark and Hux nearly jumps when a tall figure appears suddenly in his personal space - one moment he's keeping his distance from the crowd and the next there's a man gripping his elbow. The man has a hood drawn deep over his brow and the lower half of his face is hidden by a Kel Dor antiox breath mask, but the gloved hand, obscured by a broad sleeve, is most certainly human. 

"They've been warned." 

Did the Knight pull the wish out of Hux's head? Or were they filed in on the situation and decided to take the most logical course of action? Either way, Hux doesn't get to ask. The Knight vanishes as quickly as he appeared. 

And then they're at the pier. The harbour is still so full of people, it usually is on a nice day and more so when there's their beloved Queen and the popular Emperor, and Hux keeps in line with the other black-clad guardsmen and watches the well-oiled machinery of his security department gathering steam. It's an impressive sight mostly because it's invisible to the untrained eye - Phasma doesn't want to scare the traitors, doesn't want to bust their trap prematurely, she wants to draw them out. People are moving into positions seemingly at random, nothing indicates even the faintest sheen of suspicion. The Emperor's double is a handy bait now. Hux doesn't feel exceptionally sorry for him - it's his job to parade in the crosshairs after all, and up to now he's lived a comfortable life by no other merits than his looks. But there's Ren in one of the submarines in him. The fake ginger can drown like a rat for all Hux cares but Ren can't – drown – 

 _Sweetheart, don't go too close to the sea, the rocks are wet._  

Hux blinks. The sun is beating onto his black cap, stifling heat and nerves coalescing in a sheen of sweat under his hairline. He feels a single drop run down his nose. Sweat. Not rain. 

 _It always rained on Arkanis, and even if it didn't, the rocks on the beach were still wet with yellowish foam and slippery with rotten seaweed. Far too dangerous for a four year old boy to play on them..._  

He's standing at the base of the pier, high tide licking barely two feet beneath the soles of his shoes. The water is shallow here but quickly getting deeper, deep enough for the bongos to manoeuvre safely, deep enough to swallow a man whole, and there's so much of it, stretching from here to the horizon and rolling like a hungry serpent and loud and so much, _so much – he's going to slip_ – 

 _Water filling his mouth, stinging in his nose, thrumming in his ears. Waves beating on him like monsters, heavy and fierce, rolling his body as if it weighed nothing, up to the light filled with the screams of his mother and back down into the cold mute darkness, and his chest burns, and his arms and legs bleed where the waves had thrown him against the rocks, and he shouldn't have gone so close to the water because now the water has him and he's never going to get out–_  

"Sir!" 

Phasma is looming over him. How many times has she hissed at him, quietly for the sake of disguise but with uncharacteristic vehemence? Hux forces down a dry swallow. It tastes of bile and salt. 

"Sir, they're back." 

Hux turns his head towards the end of the pier so fast he nearly gives himself a whiplash. One of the bongos is already moored to the gangway, the other has just popped up above the water surface. There's no sign of a third, unmarked one - maybe they didn't make it through the planet core after all... or maybe they're staying low and ready to launch some kind of underwater weapon. 

Hux forces himself to exhale and inhale. The air burns in his lungs. His nose is full of salty stench, enough to choke on it. But he's still on solid ground, he's not _in_ the water, and he readies his blaster and swears to shoot as soon as anyone moves the wrong way. 

The Queen is walking down the pier, flanked by four of her handmaidens. Hux can see Kylo now, tall and stark against the glare of the sun, leaning down to help the Emperor out of the cockpit. 

Something boils over from the water under the end of the pier and then the entire segment explodes.

 

 

 


	6. VI

Screaming and shouting, royal guards scrambling to get the Queen to safety, scraps of ombré velvet hanging from the splintered edges of the broken pier. Smoke and zinging sound of blaster bolts, angry hiss of water evaporating under the fire and a tall black-clad woman yelling something, yelling– 

Hux is chest-deep in the water when the awareness of his surroundings crashes into him like a taser shock, freezing his feet on the slimy stones and the air in his lungs. 

"Ren!" someone is shouting. "Ren!" Hux's throat hurts. He lifts his foot to take another step. Instincts rooted deeper than conscious mind paralyse his nerves, obliterating the command of his brain before it can reach the muscle. He wants to go deeper. He can't. He needs to. It's impossible. 

The fall of Kylo's body – knocked out by the explosion, not dead, only unconscious but what difference does it make underwater? – into the water is seared in Hux's vision. He knows where to look, he sees it on repeat with every eruption of blaster fire behind his back, the way Kylo coiled on himself before the blast threw his body in the air and he fell, arms and legs limp, in a cloud of debris and heavy fabric. And then the water swallowed him and he didn't fight it, his robes dragging him down like a stone, and it's too far and too deep and Hux is never going to make it. 

A pair of strong arms envelops him from behind and Hux's feet give way under him before he rights himself, scrambling for purchase on the slippery bottom, mud clouding the water around him as he kicks. Someone is trying to drag him back to the land. 

"Sir! We'll find him, just get out–!" 

"No, I know where he fell," Hux coughs out against the rawness of his throat. "I know–" 

"Sir," Phasma turns him around to glare at him - he doesn't have a chance against her physically and they both know it. She's so calm, how can she be so calm when they're in the water to the chest– 

"Sir, you can't swim." There. Of course she knew. Hux laughs hysterically, it comes out as a sob. Phasma is unmoving, hard and reliable like a rock. "I can. Please stand back and let me do my job." 

Hux feels the fight leaving him, seeping through the pores of his skin, dissolving into the sea. Numbness takes its place and his fingers go lax on their own accord. Phasma nods at him and lets go, stepping around Hux and diving forward, disappearing headfirst into the muddied water and leaving behind her only a splash as her feet break the surface on a powerful kick. She's barefoot, her jacket gone. Now Hux registers the details. If he didn't allow the dread overtake him, he'd have had time to _think_ too. But he didn't think. Ren fell and Hux waded in after him, pathetic and stupid and unthinking. 

People are still shouting at the shore but already being backed down, pushed to the side by the line of guards making way for the medic teams. The Queen is unharmed, two of her handmaidens badly hurt but safe. The other bongo was damaged by the explosion but ended up floating several metres away, the Emperor's double sprawled over the dashboard with blood trickling down his temple. Hooks have been shot towards the vehicle and he's now pulled to the shore. Troopers have found where the assailants' bongo was hiding and tore it to pieces with a depth charge, a team of divers is searching through the debris now. All that, pieced together from overheard scraps of orders and reports, brushes over the back of Hux's mind. He pays no real attention to it. His throat is tight and his eyes hurt from trying to see anything in the murky water. 

There. A glimpse of blonde hair turned light brown by the wetness and then Phasma breaks the surface, gasping for air. Hux unconsciously gasps with her and his lungs scream and convulse in protest - he realises he's been holding his breath the entire time. For a moment, Phasma disappears again and then she's back, this time with a mop of dark hair tucked against her chest. She leans back, head bobbing as she treads water furiously, one arm hooked around Ren's neck, keeping his head above water, and a knife in her free hand slashing around him, making a quick work of his heavy, water-soaked robes. Cut off pieces of embroidery float wide around her like the petals of a flower before they sink again. 

There is water in Hux's eyes. Surely it must be water. He takes one reflexive step forward and nearly loses his balance. Ren's face is pale, lips blue and unmoving, one side of his face sliced with several deep cuts that still bleed faintly, murky and pink. Phasma is dragging him to the shore, towards Hux, when suddenly Ren jerks in her arms, eyes blinking open and whole body seized in a violent retching cough. 

" _Kriffing hells_ ," Phasma swears and tightens the chokehold on him, "stay _still_ ," and then Hux realises he just needs to reach out and he can touch her shoulder, that she's no longer swimming but staggering on her feet, and that he can throw one Ren's arm over his shoulders too and wade with them. And he does. Up until one second ago he couldn't move but now he can. Kylo is still unable to stand, hanging between the two of them and heaving water and bile but Hux still clings to him as if he was the one who's been drowning. 

There's a sharp splinter stuck in Ren's face. On impulse, Hux yanks it out - clumsier than he'd want to, his fingers are freezing cold. Fresh blood pours out of the gash and Ren winces, his cough finally subsiding. Hux presses his palm against the wound. Feels the warmth, sees the thick red trickle between his fingers. Ren's bleeding. He's alive. 

Hux can't feel his legs. The sky brightens and the water surface slants to the side, and then water comes up to his mouth, kicks salt into his nose and blinds his eyes. 

"For pfassk's sake, sir, don't faint on me too!" Phasma is holding him up by the back of his collar and shaking him. Hux shudders and tries to blink the water out of his eyes. His mouth is swollen and full of water and he swallows involuntarily, only to gag it all back up. 

"It's the water," he hears a faint whisper closer to his ear. Kylo is half-supporting him, half-hanging off him at once, and he's _grinning_ \- like a fucker who just survived his own death, Hux thinks with exasperation. Kylo's grinning like a madman and leaning close to wipe Hux's wet, dripping hair away from his forehead and murmur to his ear. 

"I thought you were growing tired of me..." Kylo hiccups and there's water in his eyes, too, it must be. "And all the time, you've been–" 

"Yes, I'm fucking terrified of water, happy now?" Hux shouts, furious at the admission, shaking from head to toe. He wants to scream and fight his way out and at the same time he feels a hysteric laughter bubbling just beneath the surface of his sanity, because what better time to admit to a illogical fear of something than when submerged to the neck in it? The conflicted instincts - to protect Kylo, to protect himself, to stay and help, to escape - rage war in him, exhausting him to the point of losing his mind. 

"Never happier," Kylo breathes out and then he lets go of Hux's hand to shoot his arm out in a sweeping gesture, fingers splayed against nothing. 

There's a moment when even the most minuscule movement of the water surface stills, as if stunned under a force field, and then the water parts like hair under comb, rising to form foamy walls on either side of the new path of solid ground now leading from Hux's feet to the shore. 

"Oh," Hux says, stupefied. The smoothed rocks on the exposed bottom are rank with dead seaweed and slime but stable enough to walk on. Faintly, he hears shouts of amazement from the people still gathered in the harbour.  Who most likely saw him dropping everything - including his hat - and jumping into the water to save his Knight when he can't even fucking swim, and who are now looking at him as he stands, bewildered and dripping like a drowned kitten. At least he's no longer swooning and clinging - but right now he couldn't fool himself into thinking he's all right and he's sure everyone else sees it as well. Kriffing amazing. 

"Well, now I see why you keep him around," Phasma mutters, indomitable smirk back on her face, and she marches all three of them out. Ren's right leg is badly mangled and he can't put his weight on it so the march looks more like dragging and pushing – but finally they're out. With a tired blink, Ren releases his hold on the Force keeping the waters apart and the element rushes back with splashing fury, big vengeful waves crashing against the embankment. Hux doesn't look back. 

Just like the water, everything quickly returns to normalcy. Medics bring a stretcher together they lower Ren on it. Phasma is calmly pulling on her boots, retrieved comm back online and catching up on reports. A delegate of the Queen loiters around, trying to offer his thanks for the swift dealing with the assassins. Someone in the crowd starts clapping and soon there are cheers going around. Hux tunes everything out. He seizes Ren by the back of his neck and kisses him, salt and mud and blood on his tongue, and when he breaks the kiss to breathe, it feels as if it is the first breath of air he ever tasted. 

"I'm sorry," Kylo offers, his smile a bit sheepish as he looks up to his Emperor. Hux shakes his head at him. 

"You better be. For nearly dying before I could marry you." 

Kylo's eyes widen almost comically and then he's pushing himself up, struggling to sit and pulling Hux down in the process and they end up in an awkward tangle of tired limbs and wet clothes and Hux can't help it, he's laughing until he tears up. Beneath him, Kylo is pale all over again and looks close to passing out. 

"This is not how I wanted the asking to go but I've been _not_ telling you things long enough," Hux apologises. "I'll ask you again when the medics are done with you, fine?" 

Kylo nods and flops back down on the stretcher, grinning and probably aggravating the cuts on his face but he doesn't seem to mind. Hux steps aside and motions for the impatient medics to take over. His borrowed uniform is stuck to him disgustingly and he shivers as he watches Ren being carried away. The crowd behind the security line is still brimming with excitement. Belatedly, he wonders how many of them have heard. Then he realises that he doesn't care. 

He'll get to ask again, in his best finery, in front of the whole court. It's what his Knight deserves.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can yell at me for updates on my [Tumblr :)](http://sinningsquire.tumblr.com)


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